


Redemption

by strictlyhighbuttonshoes



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bastardisations of cars, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Gen, Nux Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Probably a lot of references to the previous films because I love them as well, Rampant Authorial Freedom, so let's just pretend that it's not, the continuity of these films is confusing for everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 11:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlyhighbuttonshoes/pseuds/strictlyhighbuttonshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wasteland has already stolen many lives from Max, and he thinks he's owed some in return. </p>
<p>AKA I'm pissed off that people died, so they didn't, and Max goes to retrieve them. Might be eventual Max/Furiosa, tags subject to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redemption

His ghost flickered in and out of his vision, always on the ground in front of his car, sometimes a little to the side so he could adjust his trajectory. He would probably never understand how she knew exactly where he needed to go.

The Citadel faded into dust behind him, Max's hands clenched on the steering wheel of the monster-truck-Jaguar lovechild he'd liberated from the caves beneath the rock towers. He'd left Furiosa and the women behind, meaning to hit the road again, and he didn't expect to return any time soon.

However, his ghost seemed to be guiding him back along the road to the former Green Place, and he wasn't exactly relishing going back through the canyon.

The Jaguar wasn't as fast as his Interceptor had been, but it was fast enough. The guzzoline he'd nicked from the workrooms would last at least a couple of months, if he rationed it. The purr of the engine was almost soothing to him, after such a long day of fire and death.

_Max?_

He looked up, and saw the canyons looming closer. He was about ten minutes out. The time passed by quickly, and soon he was slowing down, scanning the rocks for the Riders. He couldn't see anyone. They were either not bothered by his presence, or watching from a further distance.

The wreck of the War Rig dominated the first stretch of road. The tanker had decoupled and crashed into the far side of the rock bridge, but the cab had skidded through the arch on its side, the speaker-laden music truck ploughed into its rear end.

There were almost a dozen pursuit vehicles and bikes beyond the arch, all in varying states of disrepair. The polecat cars had disappeared, probably back to Gastown. Not even half of the vehicles that had been pursuing the Gigahorse at the end were present. There were no signs of life, not even a breath flurrying the dust.

Drag marks in the dirt showed that cars had been in the arch's cradle, but had been taken away, probably by the Riders. No cars had come out of the canyon since the crash – Max would have passed them on his way.

There was only one body here that he had to check for, and it was outside the canyon.

_Come on, Pa._

Sprog had never called him Pa. He liked to think of his ghost as a mix between Jessie and Sprog, his son's youth and Jessie's curly dark hair, eyes haunting him between bouts of insomnia. His ghost flickered next to the door of the War Rig, and he edged his car closer, getting out of the driver's seat a few metres from the wreck.

A big, beefy arm streaked with blood and dirt reached from beneath the upside-down roof, which Max ignored. If the fall hadn't crushed Rictus' body beyond hope, the weight of the cab on top of him had. Max reached the passenger-side door, and wrenched it open by the windowsill.

It came right off, fragile from so much wear and crumpled in places. The entire cab was upside down, all of Furiosa's ammunition and supplies littering the skull-etched ceiling. Dust was everywhere, sunken into all of the tiny crevices in the cab. On the other side, pressed against the corner of door and ceiling, was Nux, curled tightly on his side, motionless.

"Kid."

Max's voice was hoarse from the road and the air, still not used to speaking, even after all his words with Furiosa and the others. After so long being mute and alone, it was practically a miracle that he even remembered how to say anything.

Nux hadn't moved, and Max sighed, backing off and going around to the other side. He had to shove a massive amplifier out of the way before he could get to the door, and when he did, it made a huge crashing noise as it fell away and into the rock wall. Max flinched at the sound, and opened the door, tamping down the panic that rose up when he thought about being caught here by the Rock Riders, alone and unsheltered.

Nux almost fell out, and Max grunted as he braced the War Boy against the cab, preventing him from slipping out further. With his elbow pressed against Nux's tailbone and his palm spread between his shoulder blades, Max felt at the boy's neck for a pulse with his spare hand.

It was fluttering weakly, but it was there. Max pulled at the War Boy's shoulder and turned him over onto his back, and the tiny whimper of pain was quiet, but there was nothing else making noise out here and Max heard it, relief a physical ache in his chest.

"Nux."

The groan was louder this time. Nux's eyes were almost swelled shut from bruising to his face, but they cracked open and his eyebrows lowered, his mouth crooking up in the corners, before he hissed and closed his eyes again, pain crossing his expression.

"Bloodbag?"

Max snorted. "Max."

Nux looked like he'd exhausted all of his words, and Max took advantage of his silence to haul him out of the cab. He propped the kid against the side of the rig, and did a quick sweep of the supplies, picking up a few stray grenades and a cache of random bullets stashed under the driver's seat. When his pockets were full, he leaned down and hoisted Nux onto his back, starting the slow stagger back to his car.

Max strapped Nux into the back seat – seatbelts were a luxury that this car was apparently afforded. The War Boy was clutching a weak hand to his ribs, and Max knew without having to check that some of them were broken. The kid's face looked like it had been through twelve rounds with a heavyweight champion, and his hands trembled with shock. It had only been a few hours since the crash, but Max had other places to check, and he wasn't about to let Nux roll around in the seat if things got rough. Without anything to brace his ribs with, a seatbelt was the next best thing.

"Imperator…" The question was silent.

"She's okay," Max answered, arranging Nux's legs so his knees hooked over the seat edges, providing him with a little more anchor. "Thanks to you."

"I was going to follow, but Rictus..."

Max nodded. "I know. You saved everyone, Nux."

The boy smiled, and he winced as a cut reopened on his cheek. "That's real chrome. I should be dead, though."

"What was that you said before? 'I live, I die, I live again?' Seems like you gave dying a fair shot these last couple of days, kid."

Max patted Nux's leg, and drew out of the back of the car, walking around to his side and climbing in. He caught Nux's confused look in the rearview mirror.

"Maybe it's time you gave living a go."

His ghost skirted the edge of the canyon, darting away through the arch and past the abandoned pursuit vehicles.

_Max! Come on!_

The Fury Road owed him some lives, still. Max revved the engine and took off, sand spraying behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have pages and pages of ideas for fics for MMFR, and this is only one of them. I do have plans for this fic along the lines of rescuing other maybe-dead characters, and would love to hear some feedback. This is my first fic for this fandom, so I'm still sort of finding my feet. 
> 
> Come and talk to me about Mad Max on my [tumblr](http://obsoleteangles.tumblr.com/)!


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